My family is full of storytellers. On both sides. And they never forget the really embarrassing stories, of course.
Some of these stories have garnered such great fame that they begin to tell themselves. Little cousins who weren't even born before the actual occurrence of events can tell the stories just as well--if not better than--those of us who have lived through them.
These are the stories of the moments that have made us who we are. There's the story about the catfish at Hamilton Lake, which made my sister and I afraid of swimming for a least a few summers. The story of the Chevy at the bottom of Oliver Lake, when some teenage boys (my uncles) pushed it out onto the ice. Then, of course, the time I got "married" to my four-year-old buddy and his sister pronounced me his "awfully wedded wife." Mom's surprise 40th birthday party, which she figured out 30 minutes before a cried the whole drive home before arriving to a houseful of guests. The time I sunk the speed boat. The time Grandma shot two holes in her wood floor because someone rang the doorbell. The time my dad passed some liver pate to my mom, thinking it was cinnamon butter. Now, if we ever think he's making something up without evidence, we ask him if it's cinnamon butter. These are the stories that bring us joy with every memory. Only a few sentences into these stories, and suddenly the room is filled with laughter.
Then there are the stories that bring a fresh wave of grief or pain. They are the stories that make us who we are, too, but these are the ones that reveal the true fortitude of our character. There was the time we found the drugs. The time the anger poured over into a rage, grandmother hurling abusive words at a cowering daughter while the grandchildren looked on in fear. The day the babies died, the day they were buried, and the cold, silent thanksgiving dinner just days later. The arguments at night, punctuated by a kindergartener waking up to say, "please stop, kiss and make up!" The time I took away the Christmas presents from under the tree and blasted Everclear's "I will be hating you for Christmas" on my stereo. The time our van broke down in Georgia and our nuclear family nearly exploded. The phone call about the pathology report, and the words, "there is no curative treatment, only palliative care."
These are the true stories of my life. These are the places where my identity was forged, where my character was tested, where my worldview and sensibilities and passions were shaped. In many ways, these stories are my center, my ground. I'm not sure who I would be without these stories. In a word, these stories are home.
And then, the truest story of them all. The story of a world wrecked by destruction and brokenness, of humanity full of rebellion, distress, turmoil. The unsettling inescapability of death. The absence of God. And then, the dawn of hope in the face of a baby, God in the flesh, God with us. The baby who became a teacher, a healer, a leader, a controversy. The man who set his face toward the city of his death and marched on fearlessly. The man who prayed for relief from the burden, but prayed even more than that for the will of God to be done, no matter how bitter or painful. The man who became obedient to death, though He was God himself. The man who defeated death for us, who repaired the broken world, who redeemed the rebellious humanity.
As much as any other story is my center, my identity, my home... this story is only story that gives me a new name, that adopts me into a new family, that has the power to change my very character. This is it. This is the one that makes me who I am, really and truly. This is the story to tell all other stories, this is the only one that can make sense of all the others, put them into clarity and give them purpose. This is the story that all other stories are telling.
May it be the best story we tell to each other, and may we tell it often. May we tell it always. May we never stop telling it. May it be the first story we learn and the last story we tell. And may it tell us who we are, may it be the place we make our home. May it be our center.
3.12.2013
8.24.2012
open letter to an abuser
what does your face look like to someone who hasn't seen it a thousand different times, a hundred different ways? the past has taught me to read the subtle lines around your mouth, to catch the rolling thunderhead in your eyes before the first bolt of lightening strikes. these days, it would take something impossible to catch me by surprise ... if we, our relationship were new, if we could begin each moment as if there were none before it, maybe you could be different, or i could respond with truth. in love. in a way that you would hear.
what do your words sound like to someone who has never heard them before? that tone, that tone, that tone which, from its overuse, has deafened my ears to its meaning--what does it sound like? i hardly know. you say the same things, i can practically recite your lines, as if we were players and this were going to be some Psychology major's fodder for analysis. maybe we are, maybe the script has been written and we're too caught up in our roles to imagine that it could be different. we're too consumed to see that, until the day is done, the pen is still alive in our hands.
--
is it better to throw in the towel, to cut my losses? because history has taught me the painful lesson that people can change but they aren't likely to in this lifetime.
they tell me to hope! hope, ha. how long? how long, how long, how long is too long to hope? the shiny-eyed optimist cheers, "until death! until the final chapter! until we are unchangeably changed!" but this, really? this? this i should endure. i should hope, pray, work for something better. well. empiricism would disagree, my friend.
--
do you know what the worst part is? you don't have to lay a hand on me but i can still see your fingerprints. i may not hear your voice but there are days that your words come out of my own mouth. poison! like a virus, like a tube of toothpaste, like pavlov's puppy... vile, treacherous regurgitation. i'm hardly more than domesticated animal, barely holding the wild beast in check.
what have you done? do you have any idea? these are not scars, these are mutations. stolen potential, ripped away from me before i even knew what it was. am i anything more than a victim? please, God, tell me there is something more, something left to salvage from this wreckage. i trusted you. implicitly. i knew nothing else.
--
tell me, what demons do i face today? and alone! how will i ever be healed? restored? complete? no, i am damaged. i am unchangeably changed. and it's your fault. and you can't even look at me. can't even share two civil words.
i could limp on alone. i could leave you to self-destruct. oh, believe me, i would love to. the urge is powerful.
but there is one thing worse than being me:
being you.
knowing what you have done. un-undo-ably. seeing what you have created. feeling powerless to change. you can't face me because your sins are written all over my face.
there is only one way out: together..... ironically enough.
because i need you to tell me that you were wrong. that you know it. that you feel bad. that you didn't mean to. or maybe you did, but you hate that you did. that you are sorry. that you are in need of forgiveness. that you are weak and unable to change and you wish you had known what it would do to me and that you wish it had been different.
and you need me to tell you that i forgive you. that i love you. that i'm ok. really, i am. i'm ok. i have been unchangeably changed. twice. i know, impossible.
"for men, this is impossible. but all things are possible with God." Jesus told me so.
if the gospel is true, there is no condemnation.
if God is real, the wasted years will be restored.
if we are His, there is hope. hope for a day when every tear will be wiped away and every pain forgotten forever in the blaze of His marvelous light.
if we are His, there is nothing so good that we could have that would be better than knowing Him.
if we are His, there is nothing so terrible that could happen to us that it would steal the joy of knowing Him.
if we are His, we are unchangeably changed. it's His fault.
so yes, i forgive you. every day. what else can i do? i know no other way. i know nothing else.
--
what do your words sound like to someone who has never heard them before? that tone, that tone, that tone which, from its overuse, has deafened my ears to its meaning--what does it sound like? i hardly know. you say the same things, i can practically recite your lines, as if we were players and this were going to be some Psychology major's fodder for analysis. maybe we are, maybe the script has been written and we're too caught up in our roles to imagine that it could be different. we're too consumed to see that, until the day is done, the pen is still alive in our hands.
--
is it better to throw in the towel, to cut my losses? because history has taught me the painful lesson that people can change but they aren't likely to in this lifetime.
they tell me to hope! hope, ha. how long? how long, how long, how long is too long to hope? the shiny-eyed optimist cheers, "until death! until the final chapter! until we are unchangeably changed!" but this, really? this? this i should endure. i should hope, pray, work for something better. well. empiricism would disagree, my friend.
--
do you know what the worst part is? you don't have to lay a hand on me but i can still see your fingerprints. i may not hear your voice but there are days that your words come out of my own mouth. poison! like a virus, like a tube of toothpaste, like pavlov's puppy... vile, treacherous regurgitation. i'm hardly more than domesticated animal, barely holding the wild beast in check.
what have you done? do you have any idea? these are not scars, these are mutations. stolen potential, ripped away from me before i even knew what it was. am i anything more than a victim? please, God, tell me there is something more, something left to salvage from this wreckage. i trusted you. implicitly. i knew nothing else.
--
tell me, what demons do i face today? and alone! how will i ever be healed? restored? complete? no, i am damaged. i am unchangeably changed. and it's your fault. and you can't even look at me. can't even share two civil words.
i could limp on alone. i could leave you to self-destruct. oh, believe me, i would love to. the urge is powerful.
but there is one thing worse than being me:
being you.
knowing what you have done. un-undo-ably. seeing what you have created. feeling powerless to change. you can't face me because your sins are written all over my face.
there is only one way out: together..... ironically enough.
because i need you to tell me that you were wrong. that you know it. that you feel bad. that you didn't mean to. or maybe you did, but you hate that you did. that you are sorry. that you are in need of forgiveness. that you are weak and unable to change and you wish you had known what it would do to me and that you wish it had been different.
and you need me to tell you that i forgive you. that i love you. that i'm ok. really, i am. i'm ok. i have been unchangeably changed. twice. i know, impossible.
"for men, this is impossible. but all things are possible with God." Jesus told me so.
if the gospel is true, there is no condemnation.
if God is real, the wasted years will be restored.
if we are His, there is hope. hope for a day when every tear will be wiped away and every pain forgotten forever in the blaze of His marvelous light.
if we are His, there is nothing so good that we could have that would be better than knowing Him.
if we are His, there is nothing so terrible that could happen to us that it would steal the joy of knowing Him.
if we are His, we are unchangeably changed. it's His fault.
so yes, i forgive you. every day. what else can i do? i know no other way. i know nothing else.
--
12.29.2011
all there is
it is a divinely happy thought that, though i fail and stray and falter often, i do not stand on my own merit, be it good or bad. my righteous deeds are as filthy rags, and at my weakest point the strength of Christ is perfected, and yet i am already approved regardless of what i have merited.
approved on the life, death, and victory over death of Christ.
i have no other claim. i can claim nothing more. that is all there is.
it is a divinely happy thought.
approved on the life, death, and victory over death of Christ.
i have no other claim. i can claim nothing more. that is all there is.
it is a divinely happy thought.
12.05.2011
how long, how long, how long?
i distinctly remember reading psalm 13 in high school. i remember it so distinctly because it totally confused me.
how long, O Lord? will You forget me forever?
how long will You hide your face from me?
how long shall i take counsel in my soul,
having sorrow in my heart all the day?
how long will my enemy be exalted over me?
consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
enlighten my eyes, or i will sleep the sleep of death,
and my enemy will say, 'i have overcome him,'
and my adversaries will rejoice when i am shaken.
when i was younger, no only did it seem totally uncouth and arrogant to ask such questions of God, as if this were a cross-examination to uncover His of malevolent intentions, but on a fundamental level, the inquiries seemed irrelevant for someone whose hope is in the Lord.
i mean, really!? "how long will you forget me?" come on. hey psalmist, don't you know that even if a mother could forget her own child, even then the Lord could not forget his own? our names are written on the palm of His hand? He has seen every day of our lives and can number the hairs on our head? PSH! like HE could ever forget us? why would you ask such a silly question?
and, come on, dude. get your face out of the mud! sorrow in your heart all day long? and seriously, you're ready to die because you're convinced the Lord doesn't see you? can somebody please say it--you're delusional.
or maybe you're just incredibly impatient. don't you know the Lord commands the stars to rise and the sun to set, and He is master over time and space because He created it? i mean, can't you give Him a LITTLE credit that He knows what He is doing inside of time? wait on His timing, it's obviously right. quit your little pity-party and buck up. geez.
that was the mindset of my 16-year-old self. maybe it was because i only asked such questions when i was being selfish and whiney. maybe it was because i was afraid of asking the Lord to faithfully display His own nature to me more fully. maybe it was because i had already been waiting on the Lord for three whole years (since i became a believer), and, you know, waiting wasn't turning out to be all that hard.
until it was. ten years later.
and the dull ache of loneliness starts to settle into my bones.
and the long hours, days, weeks... years of silence from the Lord starts to deafen my ears to the truth.
and the painful struggle against the temptation of habitual sin starts to seem unconquerable.
and the growing emptiness of unrealized hopes and dreams starts to numb me of all desire.
and the futility of every effort taken to repair broken relationships starts to build up walls of bitterness.
the the endless string of morning upon morning, evening upon evening, where all i can say is, "Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner in constant need of grace."
it's wearying.
and now i understand the psalmist, who undoubtedly waited so much longer than 10 years for the Lord to return, repair, restore, resurrect. i understand the plea: how long, o Lord? how long? how long? i'm not looking for an estimated wait time or a countdown calendar. i'm asking for your PRESENCE. be here, with me, now, and fix this. only You can. show up. do it. i'm DONE. i'm so stinkin' done with all this crap. get here, now. where are you? i know, i know, you're "everywhere." but i mean, where are your purposes and where is your truth and goodness in the middle of all this waiting? i don't get it, Lord, and i'm starting to lose sight of the horizon.
but i have trusted in Your lovingkindness.
my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
i will sing to the Lord,
because He has dealt bountifully with me.
there it is. the rooting of our souls. the foundation of our faith. the watch by which we measure all waiting. His nature. His love. His plan for salvation. He has proven Himself in the past; if only we would be reminded more frequently.
and i am not asking to accuse or to whine or to convince Him to change the plan. no, i ask because i need Him to know that i need Him today. i ask because i am so very weary and He is so very good. the only good; the best good. i ask because i need to know that this is not the final chapter, that one day He will be the dawn and the darkness will forever die. i ask because i have not forsaken the hope that He provides. i ask so that i can keep looking forward. i ask so that i can live. i ask because if i don't ask, i may die.
how long? how long? how long until this burden is lifted?
how long? how long is this the song that we sing?
how long until the reckoning?
--andrew peterson--
how long, O Lord? will You forget me forever?
how long will You hide your face from me?
how long shall i take counsel in my soul,
having sorrow in my heart all the day?
how long will my enemy be exalted over me?
consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
enlighten my eyes, or i will sleep the sleep of death,
and my enemy will say, 'i have overcome him,'
and my adversaries will rejoice when i am shaken.
when i was younger, no only did it seem totally uncouth and arrogant to ask such questions of God, as if this were a cross-examination to uncover His of malevolent intentions, but on a fundamental level, the inquiries seemed irrelevant for someone whose hope is in the Lord.
i mean, really!? "how long will you forget me?" come on. hey psalmist, don't you know that even if a mother could forget her own child, even then the Lord could not forget his own? our names are written on the palm of His hand? He has seen every day of our lives and can number the hairs on our head? PSH! like HE could ever forget us? why would you ask such a silly question?
and, come on, dude. get your face out of the mud! sorrow in your heart all day long? and seriously, you're ready to die because you're convinced the Lord doesn't see you? can somebody please say it--you're delusional.
or maybe you're just incredibly impatient. don't you know the Lord commands the stars to rise and the sun to set, and He is master over time and space because He created it? i mean, can't you give Him a LITTLE credit that He knows what He is doing inside of time? wait on His timing, it's obviously right. quit your little pity-party and buck up. geez.
that was the mindset of my 16-year-old self. maybe it was because i only asked such questions when i was being selfish and whiney. maybe it was because i was afraid of asking the Lord to faithfully display His own nature to me more fully. maybe it was because i had already been waiting on the Lord for three whole years (since i became a believer), and, you know, waiting wasn't turning out to be all that hard.
until it was. ten years later.
and the dull ache of loneliness starts to settle into my bones.
and the long hours, days, weeks... years of silence from the Lord starts to deafen my ears to the truth.
and the painful struggle against the temptation of habitual sin starts to seem unconquerable.
and the growing emptiness of unrealized hopes and dreams starts to numb me of all desire.
and the futility of every effort taken to repair broken relationships starts to build up walls of bitterness.
the the endless string of morning upon morning, evening upon evening, where all i can say is, "Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner in constant need of grace."
it's wearying.
and now i understand the psalmist, who undoubtedly waited so much longer than 10 years for the Lord to return, repair, restore, resurrect. i understand the plea: how long, o Lord? how long? how long? i'm not looking for an estimated wait time or a countdown calendar. i'm asking for your PRESENCE. be here, with me, now, and fix this. only You can. show up. do it. i'm DONE. i'm so stinkin' done with all this crap. get here, now. where are you? i know, i know, you're "everywhere." but i mean, where are your purposes and where is your truth and goodness in the middle of all this waiting? i don't get it, Lord, and i'm starting to lose sight of the horizon.
but i have trusted in Your lovingkindness.
my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
i will sing to the Lord,
because He has dealt bountifully with me.
there it is. the rooting of our souls. the foundation of our faith. the watch by which we measure all waiting. His nature. His love. His plan for salvation. He has proven Himself in the past; if only we would be reminded more frequently.
and i am not asking to accuse or to whine or to convince Him to change the plan. no, i ask because i need Him to know that i need Him today. i ask because i am so very weary and He is so very good. the only good; the best good. i ask because i need to know that this is not the final chapter, that one day He will be the dawn and the darkness will forever die. i ask because i have not forsaken the hope that He provides. i ask so that i can keep looking forward. i ask so that i can live. i ask because if i don't ask, i may die.
how long? how long? how long until this burden is lifted?
how long? how long is this the song that we sing?
how long until the reckoning?
--andrew peterson--
9.24.2011
i'll have no other.
at the end of an empty bottle--
at the end of that ill-fitting relationship--
at the end of an entire tank of gas taken one-way west--
at the end of the roller coaster--
at the end of that first kiss--
at the end of the bowl of ice cream--
at the end of an argument you 'won'--
at the end of your maxed out credit card--
at the end of a Jane Austen--
at the end of a great job offer--
there is thing we like to call "real life." ha. whatever that is.
this is our real life:
we pay high prices to assuage the aching emptiness. we sell our resources, our relationships, our dignity, our time... just for a moment's peace. just for an escape to some sense of perfection, one that's gone in a blink.
andrew osenga sings it this way: "almost every girl i've ever kissed is married//it's not a lot of weddings, but it's sure a crazy thought//now they all seem like someone else's story//i wonder what we paid for what we got."
i wonder what we paid for what we got.
when will we see? the price is too high and the prize is not worth it! how long until we cry 'uncle,' until we say, 'Enough!'
the things that are real will endure. only the unshakable will remain. and i examine what i've bought with my resources and relationships and dignity and time, and i realize: i'm not gonna have much when it all shakes out. not much at all.
Oh, that You would cure my heart of its bent to passing pleasures. Oh, that You would stay my heart from straying to a quick fix. Oh, that You would be my vision, and that, beholding You, all else would fade away. there is only One true. there is only One good. be all mine; i am wholly Yours, and i'll have no other.
at the end of that ill-fitting relationship--
at the end of an entire tank of gas taken one-way west--
at the end of the roller coaster--
at the end of that first kiss--
at the end of the bowl of ice cream--
at the end of an argument you 'won'--
at the end of your maxed out credit card--
at the end of a Jane Austen--
at the end of a great job offer--
there is thing we like to call "real life." ha. whatever that is.
this is our real life:
we pay high prices to assuage the aching emptiness. we sell our resources, our relationships, our dignity, our time... just for a moment's peace. just for an escape to some sense of perfection, one that's gone in a blink.
andrew osenga sings it this way: "almost every girl i've ever kissed is married//it's not a lot of weddings, but it's sure a crazy thought//now they all seem like someone else's story//i wonder what we paid for what we got."
i wonder what we paid for what we got.
when will we see? the price is too high and the prize is not worth it! how long until we cry 'uncle,' until we say, 'Enough!'
the things that are real will endure. only the unshakable will remain. and i examine what i've bought with my resources and relationships and dignity and time, and i realize: i'm not gonna have much when it all shakes out. not much at all.
Oh, that You would cure my heart of its bent to passing pleasures. Oh, that You would stay my heart from straying to a quick fix. Oh, that You would be my vision, and that, beholding You, all else would fade away. there is only One true. there is only One good. be all mine; i am wholly Yours, and i'll have no other.
7.22.2011
when only the unshakable remains
most of our lives are lived very near to the surface. we can't plumb the existential depths of human life for very long before we need to come up for air. we get stuck in the cycles of work, eat, sleep, play... and it's easy to stay busy at that level.
until. until something within us is pricked, or pushed, and all the things that hide in the darkness of our depths are brought up to the light.
here's what i mean: i was driving down I-64 on my way to work a few days ago. i was trying to merge, i had just had a jerky driver nearly cause an accident, my day had started with an emotionally draining phone conversation, and i was stressed out about arranging my upcoming move. suddenly, my phone rang. it was actually a really good friend of mine who i would normally love to hear from. but instead of answering, i shut off the ringer and i primal-screamed at the top of my lungs.
my heart is like a tube of toothpaste. if you apply enough pressure, what's on the inside is inevitably going to come out. and sometimes, it's not going to be very pretty.
this little volcanic temper tantrum is indicative of the last few weeks of my life. i'm not gonna lie: it's been a little rough. i have had the limits of my patience tested. i have been accused of having no moral fiber. i have met resistance when trying to accomplish good. i have lost one of my closest friends. i have fallen into foolish traps of temporary pleasure. i have watched something that i love dearly and have invested a lot of my life into begin to fall apart completely. i have received bad news about several family members. i have considered if it is time to totally cut of the most damaged and damaging relationship in my life, where i had once hoped with expectation to see restoration. i have cried. a lot. and i really don't know if i have ever felt more alone.
except....
where shall i go from your Spirit? or where shall i flee from your presence? if i ascend to heaven, you are there. if i make my bed in sheol, you are there. if i take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.if i say, "surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night," even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as day, for the darkness is as light with you.
this is a bit of a mystery to me: it is right here, in the middle of everything falling apart, where the love of God is made known to me. yes, i know His love in the sunshine and spring of all good and pleasant things blooming around me. yes, i know His love in the blessings of a prosperous life and in the provision of all life-sustaining things. yes, i know His love in the peace and security of solid relationships. all of that is pretty easy; all of that feels good.
but even when the sun isn't shining, even when the accusations are flying, even when relationships are falling apart, even when i've effed everything up beyond all recognition... even there, Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will hold me.
and You know what? You have. i don't know why you still do, i don't know how You still can, but i know that You love me. grace upon grace, this is the love of God that surpasses all knowledge. and don't i know it.
this is love: not that we have loved God, but that He has loved us, and has sent His Son to be the atonement for our sins. not that we have loved God. but He has loved us. He is loving us until it hurts, until there's nothing on this earth we love more than Him. His touch is devastating as he shakes out all that can be shaken, until only the unshakable remains. it hurts to be shaken, but what i will be when all the shaking is done is worth it.
so yeah, i'm being shaken. and maybe i'm falling apart right now. and maybe... it's the best thing that has ever happened to me.
until. until something within us is pricked, or pushed, and all the things that hide in the darkness of our depths are brought up to the light.
here's what i mean: i was driving down I-64 on my way to work a few days ago. i was trying to merge, i had just had a jerky driver nearly cause an accident, my day had started with an emotionally draining phone conversation, and i was stressed out about arranging my upcoming move. suddenly, my phone rang. it was actually a really good friend of mine who i would normally love to hear from. but instead of answering, i shut off the ringer and i primal-screamed at the top of my lungs.
my heart is like a tube of toothpaste. if you apply enough pressure, what's on the inside is inevitably going to come out. and sometimes, it's not going to be very pretty.
this little volcanic temper tantrum is indicative of the last few weeks of my life. i'm not gonna lie: it's been a little rough. i have had the limits of my patience tested. i have been accused of having no moral fiber. i have met resistance when trying to accomplish good. i have lost one of my closest friends. i have fallen into foolish traps of temporary pleasure. i have watched something that i love dearly and have invested a lot of my life into begin to fall apart completely. i have received bad news about several family members. i have considered if it is time to totally cut of the most damaged and damaging relationship in my life, where i had once hoped with expectation to see restoration. i have cried. a lot. and i really don't know if i have ever felt more alone.
except....
where shall i go from your Spirit? or where shall i flee from your presence? if i ascend to heaven, you are there. if i make my bed in sheol, you are there. if i take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.if i say, "surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night," even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as day, for the darkness is as light with you.
this is a bit of a mystery to me: it is right here, in the middle of everything falling apart, where the love of God is made known to me. yes, i know His love in the sunshine and spring of all good and pleasant things blooming around me. yes, i know His love in the blessings of a prosperous life and in the provision of all life-sustaining things. yes, i know His love in the peace and security of solid relationships. all of that is pretty easy; all of that feels good.
but even when the sun isn't shining, even when the accusations are flying, even when relationships are falling apart, even when i've effed everything up beyond all recognition... even there, Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will hold me.
and You know what? You have. i don't know why you still do, i don't know how You still can, but i know that You love me. grace upon grace, this is the love of God that surpasses all knowledge. and don't i know it.
this is love: not that we have loved God, but that He has loved us, and has sent His Son to be the atonement for our sins. not that we have loved God. but He has loved us. He is loving us until it hurts, until there's nothing on this earth we love more than Him. His touch is devastating as he shakes out all that can be shaken, until only the unshakable remains. it hurts to be shaken, but what i will be when all the shaking is done is worth it.
so yeah, i'm being shaken. and maybe i'm falling apart right now. and maybe... it's the best thing that has ever happened to me.
5.18.2011
proof of what is possible
i have a friend who is known for saying, "you can't argue with a changed life."
yeah, that's the truth. tonight i was encouraged to hear the story of a changed life. and i got to thinking about all the people i know who have the miraculous story of a changed life. a life redeemed from certain destruction. i got to thinking about the true reaches of this power i profess to believe, the power of resurrection, the power of death becoming alive. i got to thinking about how little i believe for those lives around me who are in desperate need of becoming the story of a changed life.
i have a friend who was an addict. violent. angry. divorced. bankrupt. estranged. and now he is clean. gracious. loving. patient. forgiving. employed. becoming a father again. seeing the work of God's grace in his life.
i have a friend who was a gang member. drug addict. poser at a christian college. God brought him to his knees, to his face, literally. and redeemed his life from the pit. gave him grace to be a leader, leading countless people to the Lord and working to be an agent of justice in a broken world.
i have a friend who was unfaithful. and subsequently rejected. abandoned. and now is whole and complete, lacking nothing.
i have a friend who was ruled by an eating disorder. and now is free.
i have a friend who was bitter with the Lord for her lot in this life. and now is joyful at the wisdom and providence of what God has given.
i have a friend who was angry, prideful, never admitting she was wrong. she estranged all friendships and most family relationships. she nearly broke apart her family. she was depressed and out of control. and now she is learning how to say, "i'm sorry, please forgive me." how to control her temper. how to maintain even the most difficult relationships. how to love those who have hurt her.
i have a friend who dared to speak the unspeakable word, "divorce," for the lack of hope for her marriage. but she put her hope instead in the Lord, and was able to watch Him transform her husband and her marriage into something better than it ever could've been before.
i have a friend who was betrayed and broken by a fiance's broken promise. she waited on the Lord, and He delivered to her something better, something that could not have been so sweet if it had not been framed by the heartache.
time would fail me to finish the stories of redemption, were i to continue. but you get the idea.
this, today, is not the final word. this is not the end of the story. you may have seen yourself in one of the stories above; i can see myself in nearly all of them. and so come with me, let us put our hope in the Lord, the only One who can bring life out of death, who can bring something out of nothing. this is the proof of what is possible with the Lord: you can't argue with a changed life.
yeah, that's the truth. tonight i was encouraged to hear the story of a changed life. and i got to thinking about all the people i know who have the miraculous story of a changed life. a life redeemed from certain destruction. i got to thinking about the true reaches of this power i profess to believe, the power of resurrection, the power of death becoming alive. i got to thinking about how little i believe for those lives around me who are in desperate need of becoming the story of a changed life.
i have a friend who was an addict. violent. angry. divorced. bankrupt. estranged. and now he is clean. gracious. loving. patient. forgiving. employed. becoming a father again. seeing the work of God's grace in his life.
i have a friend who was a gang member. drug addict. poser at a christian college. God brought him to his knees, to his face, literally. and redeemed his life from the pit. gave him grace to be a leader, leading countless people to the Lord and working to be an agent of justice in a broken world.
i have a friend who was unfaithful. and subsequently rejected. abandoned. and now is whole and complete, lacking nothing.
i have a friend who was ruled by an eating disorder. and now is free.
i have a friend who was bitter with the Lord for her lot in this life. and now is joyful at the wisdom and providence of what God has given.
i have a friend who was angry, prideful, never admitting she was wrong. she estranged all friendships and most family relationships. she nearly broke apart her family. she was depressed and out of control. and now she is learning how to say, "i'm sorry, please forgive me." how to control her temper. how to maintain even the most difficult relationships. how to love those who have hurt her.
i have a friend who dared to speak the unspeakable word, "divorce," for the lack of hope for her marriage. but she put her hope instead in the Lord, and was able to watch Him transform her husband and her marriage into something better than it ever could've been before.
i have a friend who was betrayed and broken by a fiance's broken promise. she waited on the Lord, and He delivered to her something better, something that could not have been so sweet if it had not been framed by the heartache.
time would fail me to finish the stories of redemption, were i to continue. but you get the idea.
this, today, is not the final word. this is not the end of the story. you may have seen yourself in one of the stories above; i can see myself in nearly all of them. and so come with me, let us put our hope in the Lord, the only One who can bring life out of death, who can bring something out of nothing. this is the proof of what is possible with the Lord: you can't argue with a changed life.
3.06.2011
useful sin
a confession: i don't practice confession very well. (too much irony?) but really, i don't. actually, i brought it up in my member interview at Sojourn this past week. my community group and close friends therein have been great examples of how God uses good confession to heal and sanctify us. i've experienced the goodness of the discipline. i am just not intentional or, honestly, all that glad about practicing it.
one reason i don't regularly confess is that sin immobilizes me. i feel paralyzed when i consider my sin. look, i've been at this Christian thing for a long time now, over a decade actually. you might think i'd start to get a little better at it. but i'm not. sometimes i think i'm worse than i've ever been. so when i approach the confessional, i do not hear the ringing truth of God's sufficient grace. i hear the sirens wailing, pulling up my very tainted track record.
then it becomes a spiral: i remember other errs, grievous ones, ones from last month, last year, even 15 years ago. things i did and words i said to people who needed to be loved. and i am crushed. is that who i am? it's certainly not who i want to be, but it's starting to look like that's who i am. that's what my life is reflecting. and it's got a lot of ugly. i'd rather not get into it, thankyouverymuch.
is this starting to get depressing? i hope it is. because it's true, and it's the human condition. cognitive dissonance can only go so far; at some point we have to face the music.
this is why i need confession. i need to know how ugly this really is. i need to get into it.
because i need to know how far this grace must come.
it's like i'm digging a hole in the ground: with each confession of sin, i'm digging out the poison and casting it away, that part of me is taken away and it no longer has any bearing on who i am. so i dig, and dig, and dig some more. i dig until i break a sweat, until my arms are sore, until i'm covered in dirt and bruises and smell like i haven't showered in a week. i dig until i think i've gotten it all. then see i haven't; and i dig some more.
and then it rains.
and it doesn't stop raining until the entire hole is filled.
it is sufficient.
sin makes me feel useless. i stop participating in the work God is doing when i wallow in my own sin.
but sin is useful: it reveals my need for God, and it reveals the depth of His great love for me. "at the right time, while we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. for a righteous man, someone will rarely die, and for a good man, someone might possibly be willing to die. but God demonstrates His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." romans seven : six - eight.
this unthinkable love is true. and every time i practice confession, i claim it as my covering. confession is the starting place for the love of God to be fully known in my life.
one reason i don't regularly confess is that sin immobilizes me. i feel paralyzed when i consider my sin. look, i've been at this Christian thing for a long time now, over a decade actually. you might think i'd start to get a little better at it. but i'm not. sometimes i think i'm worse than i've ever been. so when i approach the confessional, i do not hear the ringing truth of God's sufficient grace. i hear the sirens wailing, pulling up my very tainted track record.
then it becomes a spiral: i remember other errs, grievous ones, ones from last month, last year, even 15 years ago. things i did and words i said to people who needed to be loved. and i am crushed. is that who i am? it's certainly not who i want to be, but it's starting to look like that's who i am. that's what my life is reflecting. and it's got a lot of ugly. i'd rather not get into it, thankyouverymuch.
is this starting to get depressing? i hope it is. because it's true, and it's the human condition. cognitive dissonance can only go so far; at some point we have to face the music.
this is why i need confession. i need to know how ugly this really is. i need to get into it.
because i need to know how far this grace must come.
it's like i'm digging a hole in the ground: with each confession of sin, i'm digging out the poison and casting it away, that part of me is taken away and it no longer has any bearing on who i am. so i dig, and dig, and dig some more. i dig until i break a sweat, until my arms are sore, until i'm covered in dirt and bruises and smell like i haven't showered in a week. i dig until i think i've gotten it all. then see i haven't; and i dig some more.
and then it rains.
and it doesn't stop raining until the entire hole is filled.
it is sufficient.
sin makes me feel useless. i stop participating in the work God is doing when i wallow in my own sin.
but sin is useful: it reveals my need for God, and it reveals the depth of His great love for me. "at the right time, while we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. for a righteous man, someone will rarely die, and for a good man, someone might possibly be willing to die. but God demonstrates His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." romans seven : six - eight.
this unthinkable love is true. and every time i practice confession, i claim it as my covering. confession is the starting place for the love of God to be fully known in my life.
2.12.2011
sustained.
sometimes i feel like it's too tall an order, this business of becoming who i am... becoming who i already am, becoming who i want to be.
i get so scared of messing up that i don't even want to try. i get so discouraged by my repeated failures that i just want to quit. it's too hard! it's too much work! it's insurmountable! i'm so far away from the goal. how will i ever get there? what could possibly sustain me?
what could possibly sustain me?
what could possibly sustain me to see the vision realized, to see the goal met?
and it's there, right there in that place, that it is proved:
i need You. i do.
i get so scared of messing up that i don't even want to try. i get so discouraged by my repeated failures that i just want to quit. it's too hard! it's too much work! it's insurmountable! i'm so far away from the goal. how will i ever get there? what could possibly sustain me?
what could possibly sustain me?
what could possibly sustain me to see the vision realized, to see the goal met?
and it's there, right there in that place, that it is proved:
i need You. i do.
2.02.2011
professor horner's bible reading system and other medicine man miracles
i mean, really? is there a better way to imagine the signage for professor horner's bible reading system than as the weathered advertisement on the side of a traveling circus wagon? but i digress.
i've tried a reading plan or two in the duration of my enlightened life. this is the only one i've ever wanted to recommend... or even commend, for that matter. perhaps it is the ease of accessibility on www.youversion.com, including the youversion app on the iphone, but i have had a higher success rate than expected. the best part: even when i don't succeed at keeping up with the daily reading, i can tell youversion to "catch me up," and i don't have to wade through four day's worth of 30-60 minute readings. (four days? who am i kidding. try seven. i hope my honesty helps to free you of your religious, self-righteous guilt for not cracking your good book yesterday.) you can even have youversion email you the daily reading, or subscribe in your feedreader via RSS. i mean, this is the lazy man's best study friend.
i am really enjoying the juxtaposition of the OT and NT in this reading plan. i'm especially enjoying the order that the plan dictates: not all OT then all NT, but back and forth between the two. not only does this keep my mind fresh (hey, who doesn't love a good chapter-full of geaneologies?), but it is helping me to see the common thread woven through all: that is, the gospel of salvation by God's hand through Jesus Christ alone for the ultimate glory of God.
all that to say: if you're looking for a plan that is more-than-five-minutes-comprehensive yet attainable, user-friendly and guilt-free*, try this one on for size.
*guilt-free only comes with the "by grace alone" package, though, so you might need to take that pre-requisite before diving in.
"Prof. Horner’s Bible Reading System is meant to be an intense foray into every part of the Bible. This system will have you reading ten chapters each day if followed properly. The intent is to read quickly through each chapter, being careful not to “skim” or “dig-deep” into any single section. Good luck!"
i've tried a reading plan or two in the duration of my enlightened life. this is the only one i've ever wanted to recommend... or even commend, for that matter. perhaps it is the ease of accessibility on www.youversion.com, including the youversion app on the iphone, but i have had a higher success rate than expected. the best part: even when i don't succeed at keeping up with the daily reading, i can tell youversion to "catch me up," and i don't have to wade through four day's worth of 30-60 minute readings. (four days? who am i kidding. try seven. i hope my honesty helps to free you of your religious, self-righteous guilt for not cracking your good book yesterday.) you can even have youversion email you the daily reading, or subscribe in your feedreader via RSS. i mean, this is the lazy man's best study friend.
i am really enjoying the juxtaposition of the OT and NT in this reading plan. i'm especially enjoying the order that the plan dictates: not all OT then all NT, but back and forth between the two. not only does this keep my mind fresh (hey, who doesn't love a good chapter-full of geaneologies?), but it is helping me to see the common thread woven through all: that is, the gospel of salvation by God's hand through Jesus Christ alone for the ultimate glory of God.
all that to say: if you're looking for a plan that is more-than-five-minutes-comprehensive yet attainable, user-friendly and guilt-free*, try this one on for size.
*guilt-free only comes with the "by grace alone" package, though, so you might need to take that pre-requisite before diving in.
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